


Washed ashore

by Nickstarz



Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons), Trollhunters - Daniel Kraus & Guillermo del Toro
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dark Thoughts, Gen, Human Jim, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, One Shot, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 03:51:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18438464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nickstarz/pseuds/Nickstarz
Summary: Resigning himself to be an Eternal Knight, living as a troll takes its toll on Jim, as he sinks to the bottom of the lake, bleeding out.But just whose lake did he fall into?





	Washed ashore

_Black_.

 

_Cold._

 

 _Suffocating_.

 

Jim fought with every ounce of his troll strength, though in his panic his limbs flailed about, ignoring his every attempt at control. The icy cold water burned his lungs, the eclipse armour seemed to pull him further and further under.

His movements began to slow. His wounded side flared up, the ugly head of pain reared up and sank its jaws, sending hot white pain throughout his body. Unwittingly he seethed, letting water flood his mouth.

The filtering light of the surface flickered, then dimmed. The cold. The blackness. It was harrowingly too familiar. The _pain_.

If his chest were glass, it would’ve shattered from the realization. Merlin had insisted that he could handle the fight alone. He was strong enough to swim. Of course he should be, he was a troll after all! Besides, the whole point of sinking into that potion was to be a protector, a fighter so that no one else needed to.

 

As much as he had wanted to be something more than an eternally serving knight, the war had been inches from reality. There hadn’t been time for chances and they couldn’t afford to see if a human would win against Gunmar. No, Jim had done what he’d always done when it came to hard sacrifices, bite down his tongue and bear it without complaining like a good child should.

His thoughts slogged around in his skull though one thought rang true. No one was coming to save him, he hadn’t informed anyone where he was going, he’d just slink off to do his job as always, slink back to camp hoping that no one saw the wounds.

 

_No one needs to worry about me! I’m supposed to be the trollhunter! Not a burden!_

 

The cold turned to numbing. Jim would’ve, or should’ve been angry at himself for making such a stupid mistake. For letting himself make all those stupid mistakes, he had fallen into his old patterns again and now he was once again paying dearly.

 

_Although, this is an ideal scenario. No one else is hurt. The war is over, everyone’s just too busy settling and with you gone Claire can finally go back to Arcadia and live a normal life._

 

He could feel Hunter Jim whisper that in his head. He didn’t want to believe it but it was a truth and weren’t all truths terrible? Wasn’t that why he always had to hold his tongue and never let himself be selfish?

 

A different kind of darkness swept him into its embrace and he stopped fighting.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Black.

 

Warmth?

 

Softness?

 

Jim felt feebly with his hand, yes it was indeed soft, almost fluffy even, reminding him of the thick blankets back at home. He took in a breath, air. Glorious air, he coughed a bit, spluttering. However his chest heaved with immense relief.

Blearily he opened his eyes, they burned, gritty with every blink, slogging through exhaustion. And the soft blankets were coaxing him back to sleep.

He tried to take in his surroundings, soft orange glow, flickering.

Fire.

Campfire. He was cocooned in blankets, in front of a campfire. The wood cracked and splint merrily as Jim’s eyes adjusted to the darkness.

Rocky walls, sandy floor, faint water lapping from far off. More echo than tangible. The air was a little musty, though he couldn’t smell much else. He couldn’t hear any wind whistling nor any underground critters. He couldn’t sense the position of the sun.

Jim tried to push himself up. Though it was like his limbs were lead, or jello, they shook before he toppled over and slumped back into the embrace of the blankets.

 

‘No need to strain yourself, you’re safe now,’ a woman’s voice spoke up.

 

‘Hello? Uh… who are you?’ the words came out slurred, just as chauffeured by exhaustion as his body.

 

Somebody got up and moved around him, taking a seat across from him, the fire in between them. The woman had bog-blond hair in tight coils of curls, almost like reeds. Her sharp brown eyes had a molten fire behind them, strongly reminding him of his mother’s and Jim found himself staining with effort to appear polite and attentive. She was certainly not the definition of delicate. In fact from the shadow alone he probably would’ve mistaken her for a changeling. She had a solid buff build, more suited to constant intense labouring, her hands calloused and her disposition stoic.

 

‘My name is Nimue, Lady of the Lake,’ even her voice seemed warm, though there was a biting sharpness to it that told him she was a few wrong words away from that warmth turning a wildfire.

 

‘I’m-’ Jim broke into a coughing fit, using his hand to cover his mouth.

 

‘Jim Lake Jr, I know. The trollhunter.’

 

He froze, pulling his pink hand away slowly. Wait pink? Fleshy? Jim drew out both hands. Five fingers, on each hand. His arms, wrists were skinny. He quickly felt his hair, it was soft, not coarse like a horse’s hair. And no horns.

 

‘Did-did, wha?’

 

‘It’s alright, I pulled you from the lake and fixed up that wound of yours. Whatever potion was used on you.. was quite a challenge to remove, but as you can see, I managed in the end,’ she smiled quite proudly to herself.

 

‘Thank you...for saving me, but...’ he cautiously said, trying to figure out how to word his next sentence.

 

‘But what?’

 

Jim pinched himself, making sure it wasn’t some cruel dream, after the brief bite of pain he spat out his question. ‘Why?’

 

‘Well I guess I do have some agenda from this,’ she murmured admittedly.

 

His insides froze. There was a cost. A catch. **A debt**.

 

‘I need to know...’

 

Beads of sweat gathered on his forehead, he drew the blankets close like a scared child knowing he was about to be yelled at.

 

‘Who turned you into a troll,’ her warm voice flared up into a volcanic eruption in the most eerie even tone he had ever heard.

 

‘I-..’ he drew breath. He was the Trollhunter, he had to bear his sacrifice. ‘I did it to myself.’

 

‘Oh now don’t blame yourself my dear. I know someone had a hand in all that,’ she drew back, trying to opt for a more gentler approach.

 

‘I know the truth, that you’re a kind generous child who would sacrifice anything for your loved ones, which is what the Amulet took interest in. Your strengths derive from your empathy and compassion, which is why I need to know who did it to you.’ Her voice returned to the sharpness of a sword. ‘Because you _never_ deserved such an atrocity. Forcing you to throw away everything you know and almost everything you love.’ Her nostrils flared, as if the mere thought would send her in a rage.

 

‘It was nessarcery!’ Jim insisted.

 

‘Who told you that?’

 

He tried to retort, but the tiredness caught up to him, forcing him to close his eyes to rest them for a bit while he gathered his spiralling thoughts.

 

‘I’m sorry I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that, you’re still reeling from everything,’ she sighed. Jim’s eyes blearily opened and magnetised towards the Amulet, sitting innocuously beside him, the light blue glow pulsating to his slowing heart rate. Nimue noticed how his eyes darted away, a thought occurred to her.

 

 _If Morgana managed to get out. Perhaps_ **_he_ ** _had gotten out too._

 

‘Get some sleep,’ Nimue assured Jim, ‘I’ll take you back to your friends in the morning.’

 

Jim gave a resigned sigh, which segwayed into a gentle, but laborious breath. Finally his face relaxed and his limbs slacked.

Meanwhile Nimue stoked the fire, in the morning Jim would go back to his friends and she’d go and collect the karma toll from Merlin.

He made a devastating mistake of worming his way into the lives of the Lake family, the people she had sworn to watch over and protect. The descendants of Lancelot.


End file.
